Forewarned is Forearmed
by ObsessedRomantic
Summary: Kurt Hummel begins his sophomore year with an entirely different attitude. And an entirely different secret. Season 1 AU.


**Forewarned is Forearmed**

**Disclaimer: **The only thing I own is my inner glee. And my inner Glee, which resulted in this story.

_Of Sleep, What Dreams_

''Kurt!''

He couldn't breathe.

''Kurt!''

The pain, the emptiness; there wasn't any end to them.

''Kurt, wake up!''

It was like he was drowning and it was just too much effort to even try to reach the surface.

''...Kurt ... _please _...''

Everything was just too much - too much effort, too much pain, too much...

''..._**son **_...''

''Ah!''

''Kurt!''

'' ...dad ...?'' Kurt reached out with a shaking hand; confused and unsettled, but still unable not to try and connect with his father. His heart was pounding madly, breath coming in massive gasps as he dared to hope. He whimpered when the older Hummel remained solid under his fingers and yanked the crying man into a tight hug. ''Dad.'' He didn't even try to calm his own tears, clutching his father harder and harder until a small grunt of pain caused him to lessen the pressure slightly. They sat in their embrace as their breathing evened out and the heart rates slowed, watching the moonlight slowly creeping across the floor; both unwilling to let go.

Burt recovered first, but kept his face buried in his son's shoulder - sensing somehow that his son needed to hold him for a while longer. ''I was just checking in before bed ... and you ... you were gasping ...'' He shuddered and let the boy pat his back soothingly, knowing that it was somehow calming for the teenager to give comfort to another when he himself was upset. ''I was afraid you were gonna stop breathing.''

''Nightmare.'' As explanations went, it was pretty pathetic, Kurt decided. He didn't want to get into any details, though. There was enough trauma in the room already without going into details. _I should probably say something else, though. Just not ... too much. _''... I dreamed...'' He gasped, not wanting to speak the words but knowing they would only make things easier later on. ''I dreamed you died.'' He choked on a sob and tried to get control of himself. He rested his forehead on one flannel-clad shoulder and concentrated on calming his breathing.

''Right here. I'm right here.'' His father soothed, repeating the phrase a few more times before tightening his own grip, then sitting back so he could look his child in the face. ''Want me to fold out the couch?''

''Couch?'' Kurt looked at his surroundings for the first time and hoped he concealed his utter shock. The alabaster walls, the stain-resistant furniture in various shades of white, the chrome entertainment system on its metal shelving, the hanging wicker-esk chair - all of it aching in its familiarity. A way of dizzy realization went through him, confirmed with a sideways glance at the hand on his right shoulder. Looking around more closely now, he felt his confidence rising with every recognized detail. He started at the sound of a clearing throat and saw the concern in his father's face becoming tinted with impatience. _How long was I checked out? What is he... oh, right. The couch. _''No, that won't be necessary.'' He didn't want to be entirely without contact, though. The thought of trying to get through the rest of the night without the comforting ability to instantly confirm this man's well-being ... He swallowed heavily. ''Movie marathon? I can make some of that parmeson popcorn you liked...''

''Sounds like a good plan for family night.'' Burt sighed at the resulting tension under his palms, wondering if not pushing was really such a great idea. There were times when he felt like his son was walking through a war zone that he not only couldn't help the boy cross; but one that he couldn't even see. What was worse was the thought that he was one of the dangers to be faced, not a comrade to be relied on. ''But since tomorrow's the first day of sophomore year...'' The encouraging tone he'd been going for had been a total bust, he could tell. He tried not to flinch as a polite frozen mask covered the teen's face - too quickly for him to determine if the brief former expression had been one of hurt, betrayal, or startled resignation. He could almost hear the resounding _clang _as the younger Hummel shut him out. He tried to think of something to help them both. Comforting as he might find it to sit up all night and watch his child sleep, he was getting too old to work a full shift after an all-nighter. ''I could clean up the guest room...''

''I don't...'' Kurt shook his head, wondering how he could convey his reluctance to sleep anywhere but his own bed without sounding like a finnicky, spoiled brat. And as much as he wanted his father within easy reach, he wasn't sure if either of them would be comfortable sharing close quarters. There was too much between them that was unspoken; consisting of both truth and assumption. He desperately wanted to clear up any and all misunderstandings; this was just not the time. _Not to mention that I don't want to chance talking in my sleep. _He closed his eyes, wracking his brain for a brilliant idea. He could feel the tension creeping back into the room when his cell broke the eerie silence with a soft chime to indicate the completion of its charging cycle. A thought chased through his mind, trailing inspiration and leading him to a very simple but (naturally) elegant plan. ''Do you still have those promotional walkie-talkie phone things...?''

''The Nextels? Yeah. I was gonna send 'em back. As good an idea as they sounded, it's just easier to stick my head through the door and ye... Oh, hey.'' The man's smile was wide and pleased; and he returned it whole-heartedly. It was nice to connect with his father, even over an issue so easily resolved. ''Guess I'll run up and grab you one.'' Squeezing the kid's shoulder one last gentle time, the elder Hummel stood and headed up the stairs.

Kurt waited until he heard the familiar footsteps pass through the upper doorway before hastily tossing back the coves and swinging out of bed to jam his feet into his slippers. His robe was tugged swiftly on as he stumbled over to his desk to snatch up his cell; chewing on his lower lip while the screen lit up. The date glowed softly over a night time image of the New York city skyline and he bit down, the jolt of pain causing him to drop the device. Rising elation wiped out all other sensations, thoughts, and feelings. He jumped a little in excitement, barely containing a squeal; and the reflected movement in his vanity mirror caught his attention.

Huge glasz eyes regarding him from a lower height than he was expecting, the features cherubic rather than elfin due to the lingering remnants of his baby fat. His hair was a mess, his face streaked with drying tears, his skin starting to go clammy, his pajamas rumbled and likely to be a mass of sweat-stained wrinkles by morning ... and he just didn't care.

''Stylishly talented Lady of the House of Gaga.'' He breathed. ''_**It worked.**_''


End file.
